Scraps from your Table

This week (until today, that is) I've been hanging out at an Officer's house, staying with their youngest son whilst they were away. They have a dog. Her name is Katie.

Katie is a wonderful dog. Adopted from what was probably an abusive situation, she's very sweet, very appreciative of all the love, very well-tempered, an all-around good family dog. She also likes attention. If you're not petting her, she'll do what she can to get your hand on her head.

What was very interesting is what would happen when you would be eating. She's not allowed human food, but every meal she would come and sit at my feet and wait. I can only imagine that she was hunting for dropped morsels of food. She waited and waited and waited. I've learned, over the years, where my mouth is . . . so I don't think I dropped anything all week.

But she kept coming back. Some would say stupid dog. I say, the THOUGHT of having anything other than purina must be motivation enough. It would have to be wouldn't it?

There's a banquet being prepared for me. Or so I'm told. Funny thing is that it seems I'm hardly excited about the feast, or what will prove to be amazing table scraps. I'm quite content to stick my head in the trough and suck on the slops.

Thanks, Katie.

Grace All.